That’s not possible, I want to say. But instead: “We could swim tonight, if you want.”
Her face brightens. “Really?”
I nod. “Whenever you want.”
She downs the rest of her wine in one go, then stands, stretching again. “Will you come with me?”
I push my own chair back. “You want to swim now?”
“Why not?” She steps around the table, so close our hips almost brush. “You can’t say no,” she adds, with a wink. “Remember? You bought me so I know you must have a month’s free time.”
It’s a joke, but it lands like a punch. I clench my jaw, then relax. “Let’s go.”
We makeour way back to the dunk pool, which is a slab of blue light in a dark room. The glass walls catch every reflection: the city, the sky, Daisy’s ivory skin. She stands at the edge, arms folded over her chest, but not from modesty. It’s slightly cold, and her nipples are hard as glass.
I strip down to my boxers, not giving her a show, but not hiding anything either. She watches, openly admiring, then steps to the lip and dives in, barely making a splash.
She surfaces with a gasp, hair slicked back, mouth open. “Oh my god!” she breathes. “That feels so good!”
I grin and jump in after her. The water hits like a slap, but then it’s bracing, clean. I surface next to her curvy form, both of us panting and blinking from the shock.
Daisy floats on her back, hair swirling like kelp, eyes on the ceiling. “I love this,” she says, voice dreamy. “It’s like flying underwater.”
I tread water, watching her. “You look like a mermaid.”
She smiles, kicks her legs, and spins in a slow circle. “Do you swim a lot?” she asks.
“I train,” I say. “Keeps my head clear.”
She closes her eyes, drifting closer. “Can you teach me?”
I nod, and she flips over, facing me. For a second, we’re just two bodies in the blue, limbs entangled by accident. Her hand brushes my thigh, and she doesn’t move away.
I grab her waist, light, and guide her through the first strokes. She moves easy in the water, body relaxed, trusting me to hold her up. The pool is too small for laps, so we paddle in circles, sometimes crashing into each other, sometimes just floating and breathing.
After a few minutes, she stops. “I feel weird,” she says. “Like I’ve done this before. Withyou.”
I freeze.
“Maybe you dreamed it,” I say, careful.
She looks at me, hair dripping into her eyes. “Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe we knew each other in a past life.”
“Maybe,” I echo.
The moment stretches, and the only sound is our breathing and the soft lapping of water.
Then she laughs, and the spell breaks. “You’re staring again,” she says.
“You make it hard not to.”
She kicks water at me, splashing my face. “That’s what you get, big guy.”
I splash her back, and soon we’re both laughing and giggling, slapping water at each other like idiots.
Somewhere in the mayhem, I grab her, pull her in, and for a second, we’re pressed together, her arms around my neck, her legs winding around my waist.
She’s warm and slippery and so alive I want to drown in her.